Language, Potter
by astral symphony
Summary: "Language, Potter. You're about to have a baby. Don't want the little tyke exposed to such foul words. Unless it's my doing, of course."   Rated T for language.   might add another chapter with James.


**author's note**: probably going to extend this to another chapter or two. not a real multi-chapter fic, but I definitely have some idea of where else I will take this. so expect at least one more chapter. maybe two. we shall see. read & review!

(yada yada, belongs to JK Rowling, she's a goddess, et cetera.)

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><p>Lily sat, slumped over the surface of her kitchen table. A teacup sat in front of her, untouched. It had cooled about an hour ago, the tendrils of steam no longer rising from the rim. She thought about putting on another kettle, not for want of tea but for the desire to occupy herself and force her to get out of the chair she had been sitting in for the better part of the day. She partly wished she hadn't told James she wasn't feeling well. Maybe doing some work for the Order would have eased her mind – but she couldn't, not now , not today. Her mind was reeling and unfocused, her eyes seeming to blur, her stomach performing uncomfortable acrobatic acts. It was all mental, this she knew.<p>

But she wouldn't have been able to stand being around James all day without telling him – and she knew she couldn't tell him yet. The time had to be right. She had to think it over, come to terms with it all. So that's what she had been attempting to do all day. Staring at her teacup, the edges going in-and-out of focus in her vision, she decided she had failed miserably. James would be home any moment now.

And as if on cue, she heard the click of a door and the sound of footsteps coming from the other room. Lily didn't move, shutting her eyes and burying her head in her arms on the table. But the voice that presented itself was not her husband's.

"Oi! Evans!"

Even in her current state of – what, depression? Well, whatever it was she was feeling, it did not warrant a smile: but one unintentionally crept onto her face. Sirius Black, as if refusing to believe his best friend, the bastard, could have possibly had the nerve to go and get married, still called her Evans. Sometimes Lily, mostly Evans, but never any form of Mrs. Potter. Both she and James had given up on trying to correct this behavior. She had to admit, though, she somewhat liked it. It made her feel less like an old, married fuddy-duddy and more like the nineteen-year-old she actually was.

"Kitchen," she shouted back at him. "Where's James?" she asked when he appeared in the room, his hair looking windblown and even more unkempt than even James' ever did – no doubt in her mind it was from that damn motorbike.

"Still working. Dumbledore wanted a word with him. Everything's okay," he said. It had become sort of a mantra whenever anyone got kept late with the Order. Everything's okay, it's always okay. She bit down on her lower lip, a nervous habit. Sirius noticed, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you? Okay, I mean. Prongs asked me to check up on you, said you were having a rough morning."

"I –" And there it was, the faltering in her words. The entirely failed attempt to say, No, I'm fine, don't worry about me, just go on home or to the bar and get yourself a drink, everything's okay. She wished she was a better liar. "It's complicated," she said finally, not meeting her friend's eyes.

Sirius sat in the chair across from hers, leaning into it and propping an arm against the back, hand dangling in the air. Always so nonchalant, the definition of easy-going. But his voice, when he spoke, was anything but easy-going. There was a warning, slight hardness around the edges, that made her look up as he said, "Is something going on with you and James? Lily, if you're having second thoughts –"

"What? _No_."

"— you better stand true to the Gryffindor name and tell him, confront him. None of this avoidance shit, all right? But the thing is, you're in this, now. You're married. You're not Lily Evans, Head Girl, perfect student. You're Lily Potter, for better or for worse," he took a breath, grey eyes meeting hers, which were widened in shock; when she didn't – couldn't – say anything, he continued, his voice softening. Still, she could hear the protective warning in it, the intense devotion to his friend. "I've never seen James happier than he is now. Not even when we discovered the secret passage to Honeydukes while we were in school – and that's saying a lot, because the idiot nearly peed himself in excitement. He's beyond being just in love with you. And you are, too. I can see it. If you split, it would hurt you both and I don't care to put back the pieces – but I will if I have to. So I don't know what's going on with you, if you had a fight and now you're scared and it's your out, but I've watched the pair of you fight for seven years and you're going to bounce back. You're a Potter, now, and you're –"

"Pregnant," she squeaked.

That shut him up. He leaned forward, sitting upright and alert, eyes wide and almost glazed over, as if in a daze. "With … Prongs' baby…?"

"No, with the bartender from the Hog's Head – _YES_ with James' child you bloody idiot. And he doesn't know yet, so you better not open your mouth or I'll hex you into the next century, you hear?"

"Baby," he said slowly, still in his daze.

"Yes. A baby. A fucking _baby_."

As if her choice of curse-words snapped him out of it, he snickered. "Language, Potter. You're about to have a baby. Don't want the little tyke exposed to such foul words. Unless it's my doing, of course."

Lily slumped back over the kitchen table, cheek pressed against the surface and red hair spilling around her. She wondered if she looked as pathetic and awful as she felt. Still, her chest lightened slightly at his use of her revised surname. She wondered if he realized he said it.

"Don't get me wrong, Mommy Dearest, but doesn't news like this usually warrant excitement and a party and, you know, letting the father know? Unless … You're not thinking of getting rid of it, are you?" he asked, concerned again.

"_No_," she whined. "No-no-no-no-_no_. I am most definitely having a child. I'm going to get fat and miserable and cranky and it will be a miracle of James still wants to talk to me, let alone look at me."

"Stop that. You know that's ridic—"

"I'm – _we're_ _nineteen_. We are still teenagers. How are we supposed to raise a _child_, Sirius? To say nothing of the fact that there is a _war_ going on. A war! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is getting more and more powerful each day, and new Death Eaters are cropping up left and right. Muggles are being tortured, killed. Our friends are 'disappearing'. James and I are in the Order and, well, that's not a very stable profession. It's a miracle every day that we all make it home with only a scratch, only to reassure everyone that 'Everything's Fine.' It's not bloody fine, Sirius, it's not, okay? Because there's a war, and right now it's looking bad, and this is no time to be bringing a tiny, innocent child into the world."

"Shh, Lily, listen– "

But she pressed on: "And what if, one day, James doesn't come home? What if you show up on my doorstep one day, not to tell me that he's okay and is just meeting with Dumbledore, probably receiving instructions for another fucking dangerous mission – but to tell me that he's been killed, murdered by Death Eaters, and he won't be coming home. And then I'm left to raise this child by myself. Twenty-years-old with a cooing baby on my hip who won't know his dad. What then?"

Her voice got quiet, lips pressed together as if to prevent herself from wailing out with great, heaving sobs. She felt too drained to cry, though, and that was the truth. But when Sirius slid his hand across the table and covered hers with his, giving her a slight squeeze, she felt something catch in her throat and she had to look away from him. In that one action, she knew without a doubt that Sirius' loyalty to James extended to her, as well, and the unborn child. She smiled faintly.

"You are the smartest witch I know, Lily. And James, he's the smartest bloke (after me, of course)." She let out a shaky laugh and the sound came as a relief to her ears. "You may just be nineteen, but it doesn't matter, because the love you two have is more than most forty-somethings I know. This little girl-or-boy is going to know so much love in its life. Yeah, there's a war going on and you'd be stupid and naïve to not realize that – but everything _will_ be fine. You've got James, and me, and Remus and Peter. Dumbledore, the Prewetts, the McKinnons, the Longbottoms. You've got the entire Order on your side. You and James and this child, you'll be so safe, so protected, so loved. And," he said with a smile, "James isn't stupid enough to go and get himself killed. Not with you in his life, not when he's been waiting for so long to have you. And especially not now with a baby on the way."

"When'd you get so smart, Black?"

"Around the time you got your panties out of a twist, Evans."

"Touché." She paused, opening her mouth to speak but closing it again. He looked at her quizzically, recognizing the hesitancy. "I want you to be the Godfather." Again, Sirius was left speechless, stunned. "You don't have to say anything right now," she said quickly, "but somehow I think James would want you to be, too, and – I truly can't think of anyone who would be better for the job of nurturing and corrupting our child." Another pause, and she put her other hand on top of his, encasing his hand in hers with a small smile. "You have to be its Godfather," Lily said quietly.

"Blimey," he said in equally soft tones. "You're sure?"

"I haven't been so sure about anything all day."

"Bloody hell." He let out a slightly shaky breath, the corner of his mouth twitching into a slight smile.

"Is that a yes?"

He withdrew his hand from hers, giving it a small pat and smiling widely at her, before standing up and going to the refrigerator. "Absolutely, Potter. No take-backs, though. You're not allowed to change your mind. This child is officially mine to, what was it, nurture and corrupt? But I'm sure Prongs will do plenty of that on his own." Even with his back to her, she could tell he was grinning stupidly. She could hear the pride in his voice. "Listen, though. You've got a bigger issue than this kid and me being its Godfather."

"I do?" she asked, worried.

"You sure do," he paused, grabbing a leftover chicken leg from a plate and taking a bite. She rolled her eyes in spite of herself. "Not only do you have to tell Prongs you're housing an alien in your stomach –"

"Watch it! That's your Godchild you're talking about!"

"_But_, you've also got to tell him that I knew before him." Leaning against the counter, he took another bite of the chicken.

"Shit," she said, propping her chin against her fist.

"This chicken is great, Lily," he said pleasantly. "You're fit, and you can cook. No wonder Prongs puts up with you!"

"Objectifying my wife, Padfoot?" An amused voice came from just outside the kitchen. Lily and Sirius exchanged looks.

"That's my cue," said Sirius, tossing the half-eaten chicken leg in the trash bin as James entered the room. His cheeks and nose were flushed from the cold, glasses fogging from the sudden warmth of his house that contrasted greatly against the November chill.

"Leaving so soon?"

"Sure am," he said, patting his friend on the back as he headed towards the door.

James shrugged. "Drinks later?"

"We'll see," Sirius said cryptically. "Catch you later, Potter."

"Er – what's going on?" James asked when Sirius had finally exited, standing behind Lily's chair and resting his hands on her shoulders. She shivered slightly at the touch of his cold hands. "Are you feeling better?"

"I – well, yes. Yes I think so." She stood up and wrapped her arms around his waist, standing on tiptoe to kiss him softly. Lily sighed as he encircled his arms around her and she rest her head on his chest. She shut her eyes as he placed a kiss on the top of her head. "We do need to talk, though."

"All right," he said slowly; she could hear the concern in his voice that she was sure reflected on his face.

"Maybe we should sit down."


End file.
